


Douglas Adams has a Point

by feathershollyandgolly



Series: SecretlyMagneto's Cherikweek 2020 [1]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Fluff and Humor, Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy References, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Romantic Comedy, Star Wars References, The Author Regrets Nothing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feathershollyandgolly/pseuds/feathershollyandgolly
Summary: The first time Charles meets Erik, he had been arrested for driving under the influence.Technically he wasn’t what one would call driving at the time, as he was already passed out in the cockpit. Technically he didn’t have a license to drive that brand of space-cruiser. Technically it was piloting under the influence but it’s terribly hard to call it a PUI because the acronym destroys the already laughable institution that is space traffic court.That is to say, when it all went down, Charles was incredibly drunk.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Series: SecretlyMagneto's Cherikweek 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1769218
Comments: 38
Kudos: 47
Collections: Cherik Week 2020





	1. Piloting Under the Influence

**Author's Note:**

> I've been NEEDING to do my own space fic for years and we're finally here (you know, aside from Space Age, which I dropped)!! Welcome to "Simon reveals that he is a geek except his references are all obvious and not really exceptionally interesting". I could have made Star Trek TOS references. You were spared, tbh. 
> 
> Also yeah all of this is based on Douglas Adams, Grant Naylor, and a little bit of Austin Powers. Charles and Erik are both stupid together and it's all very groovy. Enjoy.
> 
> For Cherikweek day 1: Space

The first time Charles meets Erik, he had been arrested for driving under the influence. 

Technically he wasn’t what one would call driving at the time, as he was already passed out in the cockpit. Technically he didn’t have a license to drive that brand of space-cruiser. Technically it was piloting under the influence but it’s terribly hard to call it a PUI because the acronym destroys the already laughable institution that is space traffic court. That is to say, when it all went down, Charles was incredibly drunk.

Let’s start at the beginning. 

Charles is in his (his sister’s) Very Cool Advanced ship, asleep on the controls and currently cruising past the Andromeda system at an alarming speed. A siren screams in his ears, not because the sound travels through space, but simply because he left the comms on. It’s not so groovy.

“I’m going to need you to stop your vehicle,” shouts the officer through the comm, because he’s probably had to shout it three times before Charles even registers it.

Charles lets out a string of incoherent noises, startling awake and instantly regretting it. That and the twelve or so shots he had downed not too long ago. A man with a Ph.D. really should be smarter than that. 

“I am going to need to see your papers,” the officer continues as Charles slows the vehicle to a stop.

“Bluh,” says Charles eloquently. 

“Excuse me?”

“Sending papers,” Charles amends, squeezing his eyes closed to shut out the light of the dashboard. 

Everything is too bright, too loud, and too...wobbly.

He pokes at a few buttons, hoping they’re for his license and registration (and not a slew of other things). In return, the police cruiser requests a small sample of blood. 

When Charles turns the video-feed back on, he is not surprised to see the face of disappointment staring back at him.

“Your BAC is at 1.0.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Charles waves his hands around at the visual transmission, matching the way his vision is starting to bend. This does not help. “You don’t— mmmh, this never happened.”

“What are you doing?”

Charles freezes. “...fuck is it not working?”

“Sir I’m going to have to take you to the station.” 

The police vehicle emanates a tracking beam. Charles feels his (Raven’s) Very Advanced ship drag along with it, and suddenly becomes alert enough to realize that if he had crashed said ship, Raven would murder him.

It gets worse from there.

-

Charles wakes up with a start, tasting someone else’s aftershave. This would be a normal occurrence had it not been for the fact that he’s sitting in some sort of cell. The plasma-current bars glow, illuminating the cramped room.

Oh. Right. The DUI. Fuck.

He glances upwards to the shoulder he was leaning on (into is possibly the more correct term). He blinks. The stranger blinks back at him.

“Oh, hello,” Charles says groggily, and suddenly gets a very strange sense of deja vu. 

“...hello,” says the stranger.

As Charles’ eyes get used to the darkness, he sees the sharp silhouette of a man. Normally this wouldn’t mean much, but seeing as the man is a good few inches taller and far more sober than Charles is, it would be accurate to say Charles jumps away. Or stumbles.

It’s sort of like waking up holding a knife. If the knife was handsome. And looked at you with a strangely mixed expression of concern and boredom.

A long silence passes between them. Charles has the urge to gather his bearings. At least introduce himself. He has no idea who this man is, and for all he knows he could be stuck with a wanted serial killer. (He isn’t, but, it’s always good to be sure.)

Curiosity getting the better of him, he asks: “What are you in here for, anyway?”

It should probably be disconcerting that the man glances at the floor, clearing his throat. 

“What?” the man asks. “You’re not going to introduce yourself, at the very least?”

Charles sighs. He holds out a hand, though the other one is sort of handcuffed to it, so he ends up extending both arms in an awkward gesture. 

“My name is Charles Xavier,” says Charles. “As you can probably tell, I’m here under a DUI.”

The man sends him a disparaging look and holds up his own hands, which evidently are completely restrained. 

The entire situation is starting to play out like a flame to a matchbook house. 

“Erik,” says the man, not bothering to give a last name. “I killed a man.” 

“Ah.”

Charles wishes he was less sober when he heard that, so he could ignore it in favor of passing out. He closes his eyes. As tired as he is, commanding himself to sleep doesn’t work. He’s awake and he’s stuck in a cell with a murderer.

At this point, dear reader, it’s probably pertinent to know that Charles is a telepath. And that he’s usually quite good at it. 

God, he was _so_ sure Erik wasn’t a serial killer.

-

Raven arrives a few nervously quiet minutes later. She doesn’t look too pleased. (She takes her keys back, too, and is thankful that Charles has never actually had a piloting license in the first place).

-

It doesn’t surprise either of them that Erik had mysteriously escaped a few hours after Charles is bailed out. 

Despite the fact that Raven is practically screaming at him through his headache, his attention is drawn more to the details displayed on the news holo-channel. He squints at the letters, still fuzzy through his exhausted vision. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Raven prods. “You stole my ship. Drunk. Again.”

“No, look,” Charles says. 

He points at the screen, where Erik’s apparent mugshot is being projected. In the light he is unfortunately still as handsome as Charles assumed he was. Graceful and holding a swift determination in his eyes that is somehow captured in the image.

“What?” Raven leans in for a closer look. She scrunches her nose in confusion. “Another space outlaw? Yes. Fine. But you need to stop avoiding this conversa— ”

“That’s the man I was in the cell with,” Charles cuts in.

Raven’s face turns pale. “No.”

“Yes?” Charles replies.

“Charles look at his _bounty._ ”

“20,000 Earth Dollars,” murmurs Charles. “That’s quite a sum.”

Raven shakes her head, having forgotten about the argument they were just having. The anger she had earlier is replaced with a radiating fear. _Oh god, Charles was in the same room as that man_.

“20,000 ED alive,” Raven supplies. “It’s 1,000,000 ED dead.”

-

What angers Charles the most about that entire incident is that, rather than being afraid, he only becomes curious. Erik didn’t seem like a serial killer because he...wasn’t. He derived no joy from it. In fact, he hardly thought of it at all, which was probably why Charles didn’t know about it. (At least, Charles reasons this, because he refuses to believe that he was _that_ clueless in the moment.)

No one is interesting when you’re an omega-level telepath. 

But Erik? Erik is completely new, and Charles (with all his terrible self-preservation skills) wants to know more.


	2. Whiskey or Perfume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What are you doing here?” asks Erik, getting the man’s attention.
> 
> It’s a stupid question, seeing as Erik specifically sought him out there, but there isn’t any other way to start a conversation when he doesn’t remember the man’s name.
> 
> “I should be asking you that question, Erik,” replies the man, not even turning around. “And stop calling me ‘man’, my name is Charles, thank you very much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two, now with Star Wars jokes

Erik needs to find that drunk-ish telepath from the station jail-cell. That’s a sentence he didn’t think he’d ever, well, think. But, seeing as the only other telepaths he knows are absolute pricks and the digital trail of finding a better one is too great a risk, he has no choice. 

Thankfully, Erik happens upon the DUI-man at the Serenity Hotel and Lounge. Which is the first one he decided to check. Hooray.

He isn’t surprised to find him in one of the biggest alcohol hotspots. He is a little surprised to find the man completely sober and failing at billiards. In the dim light of that smoke-filled room, the telepath looks composed. Confident, even. 

Neat brown hair curls against pale skin. Rather than a simple shape in the darkness, Erik can finally detail the furrow of a determined brow and the curve of the man’s arms as they (with spectacularly poor aim, despite the good form) line up to the cue ball. 

Erik reminds himself that the man is a telepath. And that he really shouldn’t be thinking about something embarrassing when he’s here on business. With said telepath. The thought barely stops him from being distracted. 

“What are you doing here?” asks Erik, getting the man’s attention.

It’s a stupid question, seeing as Erik specifically _sought him out_ , but it’s hard to start a conversation when he doesn’t remember the man’s name.

“I should be asking you that question, Erik,” replies the man, not even turning around. “And stop calling me ‘man’, my name is Charles, thank you very much.”

“Are you going, or not?” one of the players calls (and is promptly ignored).

“ _Well,_ Charles,” Erik replies cooly. “I’m looking for someone, and seeing as you have the ability to sift through minds I was hoping you could help me.”

“Me?” Charles leans the cue against the table. “Very slimy of you, trying to coerce a drunk telepath.”

Erik frowns. “You haven’t drank anything yet.”

Charles opens his mouth. Closes it. 

“How did you guess?” He finally asks.

“I didn’t,” says Erik. “You just told me.”

“Fuck.”

“You’re a terrible liar, you know.” Erik fights the urge to laugh.

“Shut up. Do you want my help, or not?” Charles glances back at the game he’s obviously losing and lets out a resigned sigh. “At least buy me a drink, then.”

Erik rolls his eyes, but obliges. 

-

“I should just turn you in.”

Charles clearly doesn’t mean this, seeing as he’s also downing a shot of whiskey, dry, and doing no such thing.

Erik stares at him, sipping at the martini he ordered, and feels a bit inferior. Which is stupid. Because Erik is dramatic and drinks whatever he damn well pleases. Including, apparently, a raspberry martini that is a pleasant shade of magenta. 

Charles orders another shot.

“Don’t get wasted,” says Erik. “If you’re going to make a decision, you need to know what you’re getting into.”

“You were trying to coerce me earlier.”

“I asked you if you could help me. I offered nothing in return. I literally explained what I wanted you to do and waited for an answer.”

“Ough, shut up. Don’t use logic on me like that,” Charles replies, but he has a wide grin spread across his face. “Alright, alright, I suppose that’s enough alcohol for now. But I still stand by what I said.”

“What, turning me in?” asks Erik. “What would the point of that be? I know you don’t need the money, or you wouldn’t have been able to get into this lounge in the first place.”

“The point would be that you’re probably wanted for a reason. And you murdered people. You told me that yourself.”

“Would you believe me if I said it was justified.”

“Hardly.”

“What if they were space neo-nazis?”

Charles pauses, probably forgetting what he was going to say, and frowns. 

He mutters, “...go on?”

“Simple,” says Erik with renewed vigor. “My planet was wiped out. I’m trying to stop the bastards and specifically remove their _leader_ , who has significant influence on the Intergalactic Governance.”

“You’re—” Charles sends him a look. “You survived planetary genocide and want to destroy the man responsible. The man responsible has a high seat in government and no one knows he’s there...”

“What?”

“Well,” and Charles takes a sip from his drink like he’s trying to stop himself from laughing.

“Spit it out already.”

“Is,” Charles mumbles. “Is the leader of this organization going to turn out to be your father?”

Erik almost drops his glass, letting out a surprised bark of a laugh. Of all the god-awful things this man could have said— 

“I hate you _so much_ ,” Erik snorts. “I’m trying— I’m trying to be serious about this.”

“All I’m saying is that your life sounds like a _Star Wars_ film,” Charles says, raising his hands in faux surrender.

“That implies that you are Han Solo and I refuse to believe that.”

“I don’t know,” Charles hums. “I do have some excellent connections. And a pretty groovy ship.”

“I met you because you got a DUI.”

“And we aren’t arguing about this now,” Charles cuts in, because clearly, he’s lost. “Classic pop culture references aside...you want me to find the leader of this group.”

“Yes,” says Erik, nodding.

“Because you want to kill him.”

“Yes.”

“But if I’m implicated in this mess,” Charles concludes, “we’ll both be outlaws.”

“Ye—” Erik pauses, correcting himself. “Not at all. We’ll find incriminating evidence against him too.”

Charles narrows his eyes.

“And how do I know I should trust you?”

“Simple,” says Erik.“You’re bored and you have nothing better to do.”

It’s pretty easy to find a thrill-seeker out of a man pushing thirty who dresses like he’s going to a charity banquet and drinks himself into DUIs.

Charles gapes at him. Jackpot.

-

Charles insists that they stay in the Serenity for at least a night so he doesn’t get a ‘PUI’ (as he calls it). Erik points out that it’s not that late, and that they can wait before leaving, to which Charles shushes him. He also tries to remind him that he knows how to drive. Charles shushes him again.

“Can’t a man be tired?” Charles mutters. “We’re in a five-star hotel. Besides, if we’re to be on the metaphorical road, we’ll need to get used to each other’s company anyway.”

“What makes you think that you’ll be helping me for that long?” Erik asks.

“Oh no, my friend. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not. I’m invested. I want to see how it goes.”

Charles should be thankful that Erik finds him endearing because otherwise, Erik would have dropped him right then and there. Oh, how Erik regrets everything already. 

He approaches the front desk with Charles in tow. Charles, for his part, is grinning ear to ear and counting the Earth Dollars he has left in his wallet.

“You don’t have a card?” Erik asks.

“And have it stolen? I’d rather not,” Charles mutters. “I have three thousand on me, but we’re going to want to stretch that out.”

Erik blinks, but says nothing about the casual admission of wealth. To be fair, he just spent a good sum of his own money buying. He turns to the receptionist, who is watching them with a resigned patience. 

“How much for two rooms?” Erik asks.

“Five hundred ED a night, each,” says the hotel receptionist, whose gaze remains glued to the computer screen.

Charles frowns. “What about a double?” 

“Four hundred.” 

Charles drums his fingers on the counter, seeming distressed about this. Probably due to the unknown of how long he would be on the road. Erik doesn’t really have time for these shenanigans. 

“How much for a single?” Erik asks.

The hotel receptionist actually looks up now, eyebrows raised. 

“Three hundred fifty. Now are you booking a room, or not?”

Erik glances at Charles. Charles rolls his eyes, but doesn’t protest. 

-

“I call right.”

“I call left,” Erik says simultaneously. 

“But— Oh.” says Charles, realizing that they agreed. “I was prepared to make my case.”

“What, that you like being close to the air conditioning? I like being close to the door.”

“I run warm,” Charles says weakly.

Erik pats him on the shoulder. “Yes, I’m sure whatever you were going to say next was a riveting argument.”

-

They wake up tangled together, and neither of them comment. 

Unfortunately for Erik, or possibly fortunately, depending on when you ask him, this was not the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated! Thank you for reading :D


	3. Piranhas are Not Very Groovy at All, Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know, I got my Ph.D. in microbiology recently. I could lose my credentials over this,” says Charles, for the hundredth time that year.
> 
> “You should have thought of that before you decided to do this,” Erik replies.
> 
> “Yes, well, I didn’t think we’d end up hanging upside down over a pit of killer-space-piranhas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that's the final update! Enjoy the first prompt!

_A year later_

“You know, I got my Ph.D. in microbiology recently. I could lose my credentials over this,” says Charles, for the hundredth time that year.

“You should have thought of that before you decided to do this,” Erik replies.

“Yes, well, I didn’t think we’d end up hanging upside down over a pit of _killer-space-piranhas_.”

Erik, who can feel himself turning red in the face, mutters something under his breath about Bond cliches. 

“Shaw is wearing a stupid telepath-proof helmet that is non-ferrous,” Charles continues. “I mean, think about it. We’re both essentially dead.”

“Don’t say that,” Erik mutters. “I’m supposed to be the pessimist.”

“You told me you were a pragmatist last time.”

“My pragmatism tells me that now is the time for pessimism.”

“ _Lovely._ ”

Erik attempts to wriggle and loosen the rope tying them together, but he only ends up drawing it tighter against his skin. He hisses at the burn and tries to keep moving. They don’t have much time.

“I can’t believe I spent an entire year with you trying to track this bastard down,” Charles says into the silence.

“He was planning on starting an intergalactic war so he could claim power over the wreckage,” Erik reminds, trying and failing to keep himself undistracted. 

“I _know,_ ” Charles groans.“He took an hour to explain it, remember?” 

“So you regret joining me, is what you’re trying to say.”

“I don’t…” Charles sighs. “I don’t regret joining you.”

Back to back, Erik can feel the rise and fall of each breath between them. It’s almost comforting, despite the rising dread. The rope gives a bit, inching them closer to the water. 

“I can make more Star Wars references if you want,” Charles offers.

“Give me some Douglas Adams, then we’ll talk,” Erik says. 

“I suppose Don’t Panic is apt.” Charles lets out a pained laugh. “It’s a shame that we forgot a towel.”

“Explains our luck,” Erik muses, but he can tell Charles’ smile has dropped, even if he can’t see his face.

“You know something?” Charles asks, voice quieter now. 

“What?” 

“I’m glad I met you.”

And then their heads are touching the cool water, and the rope snaps in two.

-

Erik surfaces with a gasp. 

He hears a distant _‘oh my god’_ and turns around to see Charles treading the water with ease. They stare at each other, pulling off the now loosened rope.

“The piranhas aren’t eating us,” Erik concludes, trying his best to not laugh at the sheer absurdity of the situation.

“Shaw is a fucking idiot,” Charles says, breathless with relief. “These are Red-Bellied Pacus _. They’re vegetarian, Erik._ ”

Erik watches Charles grin. He thinks about kissing him, but that would be a terrible idea in piranha-water. Later, then. Or never. It’s always hard to tell when Charles has shown no sign of reciprocating. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Erik finally says, turning to head to the platform. “Come on.”

“I meant what I said, you know,” says Charles, unmoving. 

“What?” 

And Erik looks back in surprise just as Charles pulls him by the collar and _kisses him on the lips._

Oh.

And it suddenly doesn’t matter that he was about to die seconds earlier. Not when Charles is still here, by his side. (They’re still cold and soaking wet, but he’ll worry about that later.)

By the time they part to breathe, Erik doesn’t really know what to say. 

“I—” 

“I know,” Charles interrupts, grinning like before though his lips are now a deeper shade of red.

“Shut up for one second Han, I’m trying to be serious,” Erik protests. “I’m glad I met you.”

Charles’ grin turns into a gentle smile. His right hand comes up to cup the side of Erik’s face.

“I was waiting for you to admit it, but I didn’t know you were waiting for _me_.”

“You’re a telepath,” says Erik.

“Don’t use your space-outlaw logic on me.” Charles pats Erik affectionately on the cheek. “There’s work to do. We have an ‘evil-space-dictator-who-is-definitely-not-your-father’ to stop.”

“He isn’t my father,” says Erik for the millionth time. 

“All I’m saying is that your mutation obviously parallels the force…”

Charles keeps talking even as they exit the water, helping each other up, and sprint down the hallway to Shaw’s main office. In fact, he has the audacity to ask Azazel, Frost, and Riptide about it (even though all three of them are trying to deter Charles as he does it). 

Fortunately, for Erik, this is not the end of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated! Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated! Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
